Unruffled
by StraddlingTheAtmosphere
Summary: Puck is always calm and collected. Kurt wants to find the one thing he can say to change that. Puck/Kurt.


Title: Unruffled

Fandom: Glee

Pairing: Kurt/Puck

Spoilers: Up to Never Been Kissed (but goes wildly AU in the actual episode)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: bullying, no Blaine (yes, that is a warning…I'm obsessed with him)

Summary: Puck is always calm and collected. Kurt wants to find the one thing he can say to change that.

* * *

"'Sup, princess." The tall, mohawked boy raised an eyebrow, dark eyes glittering with amusement. Kurt slammed his locker closed and whirled around, unholy smirk gracing his features. The muscled teen quirked a half-smile, waiting calmly as usual.

Kurt opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again, all the while gazing at Puck with a myriad of emotions flitting across his face. He shut his mouth once more, a set sort of determination settled on his features. He reached up—but really not that far up because Puck was surprisingly not that much taller than him—cupped his face with both elegant hands, and kissed him.

Right in the middle of the hallway.

How in the world did we get here?

* * *

Let's just say it all started right before Puck even joined Glee.

Morning routine: get out of car, meet jocks at dumpster, get passed on by clueless teacher (Mr. Shue), give jacket to Finn Hudson (the _sweetheart_, please note sarcasm), get tossed into dumpster by Puck and co., shake with rage in dumpster.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

But, what many people (e.g. Mercedes) don't know is that during the toss—or right before as it were—Puck would whisper in his ear some various insult and Kurt would rage and rage hard (completely ignoring the totally involuntary shiver that occurred when the muscled teen's hot breath ghosted across Kurt's sensitive earlobe,) trying to come up with a witty rejoinder.

One completely unremarkable day, Kurt was laying in the filth, red-faced and fuming from the latest insult.

("Back off the fag's head, guys. It's mine."

When he gripped his shoulders, body heat seeping through his clothes, he whispered, "You'd like that, wouldn't you? For me to focus on just the _head_."

Cue a lewd waggle of the eyebrows.

Kurt squawked—more like squeaked indigently—but that's beside the point.)

He decided enough was enough. He wanted to break Puckerman's cool exterior, break it to show something, _anything, _to know that Kurt affected him as much as he affected Kurt.

So. Monday morning, he got out of his car, dressed smartly, vicious insult on the tip of his tongue. Sighing, he picked his way over to the jocks, taking off his jacket and putting it in Finn's hands, glancing up quickly at his semi-guilty face

Well, fuck you, he thought. You're cute but useless, aren't you?

So he wasn't feeling charitable at the moment, sue him.

"Lookin' especially homo today, Hummel," Puck murmured before picking him up. Right before being tossed in, Kurt angled his head up, teeth accidentally catching on his ear.

"Better than looking like a caveman, Puckerman," he retorted sweetly, feeling the full-body shiver of the teen's body. Kurt closed his eyes tightly, preparing to be thrown in extra hard.

But Puck surprised (infuriated) him.

"A caveman you'd love to be fucked by," he chuckled darkly before tossing him in effortlessly. Kurt lay there for a moment, just gaping.

Now, this exchange of insults happened with increasing creativity and vulgarity.

(Once, Kurt angled his head up and bit his ear, tongue flicking out once before whispering harshly, "Watch it, I'll get my gay cooties on you."

Puck just looked at him with eyes slightly darker than normal, licking his lips before saying, "A stud like me can make even gay look hot." And then proceeded to throw him in. Goddamn him.)

How the other jocks didn't notice these interactions was beyond him.

* * *

But then, Puck joined Glee, throwing Kurt for a loop. Again, thank you Puckerman.

So there was a little spite, meh, whatever. It's not his fault so he could care less.

But anyway, he came in all oozing sex appeal and smooth, crooning voice. It was enough to make anyone melt, which, what the hell?

Snap out of it Kurt. You are not going to crush on your worst tormentor. And to prove himself wrong, he threw himself at the nearest male object: Finn Hudson.

He was, admittedly, adorable, with his brown, dopey eyes and slow, lumbering walk. A sweetheart too if you could get passed how ridiculously dense he was. And so his first living, breathing crush commenced.

Unfortunately, (or fortunately, depending on who you're talking to,) the dumpster dives continued. Usually Puck was still there, although that was fading a little, but it was enough to make Kurt grit his teeth.

"How the hell are you still doing this? You're in Glee; it should be being done to you!" He hissed one day, voice bordering on a snarl.

Puck smirked, "I thought I told ya, Hummel. I could go drag to school and still get called cool."

And now that…was quite the image. But imagining his current bully with eyeliner emphasizing those pretty hazel eyes and dark lipstick drawing attention to that soft, plush mouth, warm blush and a hint of glitter highlighting those defined cheekbones…well, that wasn't helping the current situation _at all_.

Of course he thought Noah Puckerman was attractive. Who in their right mind wouldn't? But that didn't mean he would be throwing himself at him. God knows, his ego was big enough and Kurt didn't want to be _killed_. He had a little more self-preservation than that, thank you very much.

That didn't mean he couldn't look.

* * *

Eventually, Kurt noticed that while he still got the dumpster dives, Puck no longer showed up.

It was an interesting development but not entirely a surprise, since the baby drama got out. He'd been quieter and, dare he say it, _broody, _so, no, this wasn't really a surprise.

What was a shock was the little pinprick of disappointment deep in his mind.

He actually_ liked _the insulting banter because it was more entertaining than he expected.

Goddamn you, Noah Puckerman.

To find out that he wasn't just a bag full of stupid and could actually hold a decent conversation, all sharp wit and calculating responses, cool demeanor and indifferent expressions, was simultaneously like a breath of fresh air and just the shattering glass of stereotypes being broken.

And cue Kurt deciding enough was enough; he was going to make Noah Puckerman lose his cool if it killed him.

(Well, hopefully not.)

First, to wipe the semi-permanent scowl off his face. Kurt found the perfect moment during GaGa week, but he had no idea what to say.

He took a deep breath.

"Hey, Hummel, how the hell do you take this shit off?" Kurt raised an eyebrow and observed the boy attempting to wipe off the makeup and face paint. Attempting being the key word.

"First of all," he said, smacking Puck's hands away from damaging his skin even further and pushing him into a seat. "I don't wear this much makeup daily." He was drawing out a moist toilette and gently cupping his face with his hands before he even realized what he was doing.

He felt Puck's breath stop and stutter, then start up again, body suddenly going very still. Kurt swallowed thickly, the air around them alive with tension, and he very, very slowly wiped down his face, trying not to make any sudden movements that would anger the cornered wild animal the teenager was. He dared look up at him and was overwhelmed by those huge, dark eyes and full, parted mouth. Fidgeting slightly, he gently scrubbed down his face, rubbing softly at his jaw and cheeks. Without meaning to, his hand slid into Puck's hair, grabbing what little hair he could now that the Mohawk was gone and tilting his head back. Puck's eyes fluttered closed and Kurt paused in his ministrations, mesmerized by the compulsive up and down movement of Puck's Adam's apple.

Suddenly, he really wanted to bite down on that graceful line of his neck and he licked his lips, fingers compulsively scratching at the teen's scalp. A low sound vibrated at his throat and Kurt jerked, hand falling out of his hair, eyes wide.

Puck opened his eyes, sitting up slowly, blinking those expressive eyes at him owlishly, his previous cornered animal behavior gone. All his makeup was cleared off except the lipstick, which was so obscene, Kurt needed to adjust and shift his feet.

Even with the eye contact the moment was still there, tension a live and crackling wire between them. The muscled boy licked his lips and Kurt couldn't help it—he really couldn't—when his hand went to those red, red lips and wiped at it with his fingers, a toilette in between their skin. He finished wiping off the lipstick; his mouth still dyed a pink-red flush. Unable to stop himself, he bit his lip and swiped a thumb across the boy's lower lip, warm breath on the sensitive skin-pad making him shiver.

His breath came harsh and fast and when Puck's tongue reached out to tentatively touch his finger, a high, strangled _Noah_ ripped from his throat.

That was a mistake.

His teammate's eyes flew up, wide and startled, and he sucked in a sudden, panicked breath. Kurt didn't wait for the inevitable backlash, instead choosing to scoop up all his stuff and hightail it out of there.

Of course, home hadn't been much better; Finn's unexpected homophobia leaving him shaking and trembling and he wished desperately for that same, unruffled cool Puck always seemed to have.

The next day, there were no insults as they avoided each other. Well, to be fair, it was Kurt avoiding Puck and Puck not really caring one way or another.

Seriously, Kurt wanted to steal his sense of mind. How did he do it?

* * *

"'Cedes."

"Yeah, baby boy?" His best friend glanced up at him, chocolate eyes twinkling merrily.

"I need you to dig." She raised her eyebrows.

"Ooh, who you need dirt for?"

"Puck."

"Now, hon…" Kurt knocked off her hand from his shoulder, eyes narrowed.

"No, really, I want to get him angry."

Mercedes looked at him disbelievingly.

"Lemme get this straight. You want to take Puck—former bully, self-proclaimed badass—and make him _angry_? Boy, you must be trippin'."

Kurt shook his head, trying to fight a smile.

"All you gotta do is touch him and he'll snap, thinkin' he's got the gay."

"Already done that." Mercedes snapped her head towards him, mouth open, poised to ask a question.

"He doesn't _do _anything! He has like no emotion! You _know _I pride myself in my talent of driving people crazy," Kurt sniffed. Mercedes grinned.

"Good or bad," she sang. Kurt winked.

"Alright, I'll do some digging. I'll let you know when I got something juicy."

"Thank you, 'Cedes. You're the _best_," he said, kissing her cheek.

"And don't you forget it."

* * *

"Ooh, have I got some _news_ for _you_!" Mercedes squealed the next day, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side. Kurt frowned, pulling away absentmindedly.

"What's wrong with him?" He asked, pointing to the teenager they were about to discuss, who was walking blankly down the hall, face expressionless, eyes dull.

"I don't see a difference from the normal."

"He's like…blank." Mercedes blinked, pausing for a moment to gaze thoughtfully at him, eyes thinking and sharp.

"Well," she said finally, "talk to him about this and he'll go from blank to furious faster than a Jaguar goes 0-60."

Kurt lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Really, now? Do tell."

"Just mention his dad."

"That's specific."

Mercedes huffed, "That's all I could get out of Quinn before she changed the subject."

"You and her are still friends?"

"Apparently."

"Hmm."

"Well," Mercedes said, patting his shoulder, "You have fun getting Puck mad and remember to have your phone ready to dial my number when you do."

Kurt laughed, "You got it, 'Cedes."

* * *

The next day started much the same as before except for one thing—no Puck…anywhere.

And Mr. Shue wanted to do duets again.

…ooh but that new Sam kid was _cute._ With a huge mouth and dyed hair. Gaydar going off like crazy.

Breathe, Kurt, don't be creepy. Just be polite and ask him to be your duet partner. How creepy can that be?

…Apparently very. Alright, so his crush on Finn bordered on stalking. Yes, he realized that now. All he wanted was a duet partner! Not a husband!

Good thing he was awesome and always had a good solo up his sleeve. And that Rachel was actually nice for once and noticed someone besides herself and Finn. Things went pretty normally after that. No Puck and no one noticed? Check. Mr. Shue trying to win Ms. Pillsbury back from her gorgeous boyfriend? Check. No one noticing the bullying problem Kurt had? Check. Disgustingly cheesy Rachel and Finn solos? Check. Dumpster dive mornings? Check. Puck coming back?

…What?

"Get him outta there." There was that low growl, muscled shoulders, tan skin, and oh _hello there_ Mohawk. Kurt peered from under the dumpster lid in disbelief. There was no way that Noah Puckerman, on his first day back from juvie, was defending him, Kurt Hummel, from Azimio and Karofsky for _dumpster diving._

Except he was.

"There's a reason I went to juvie. Now get. Him. Out." He took a step forward and Kurt's eyes widened as the lid flipped open and two pairs of hands lifted him out. The countertenor swallowed as he met eyes with the cold blue ones of his lighter-skinned bully, and shivered as he dragged his hands down his ribs before shooting him a glare and stepping away.

"You won't do this again, got it?" Now Kurt shivered for a totally different reason at the husky drawl of Puck's voice. Azimio looked ready to say something when Puck rolled his shoulders back, making him look even more broad and ripped, and the two fled. He let his shoulders fall and spun to look at Kurt, who was struck again by his so very expressive caramel, green-flecked eyes.

"Good thing they don't know you went to juvie for stealing an ATM, not fighting."

Puck grinned, "And good thing they don't know that if I get into any kind of fight, I'll get sent straight back there."

One corner of Kurt's lips curled up, but once again he found himself saying something he didn't mean to say. "I'm also not a damsel in distress, Noah." How in the world he had _that _up his sleeve, he'd never know, but Puck merely raised an eyebrow at the use of his first name, eyes glinting with some of that nearly forgotten (but not really) heat.

"Too bad 'cause you would've gotten one helluva knight in shining armor, Princess," he remarked in that soft, whiskey-smooth voice of his before walking inside the school.

Which…what? There was no way he meant that like he thought he meant it.

Right?

"Hon, he was totally flirting with you."

"What? _What?_ And how are you not freaking out? Because I'm totally freaking out!" Mercedes lifted her eyebrows, unimpressed by her best friend's theatrics as usual.

"Please, I figured out he was into you when you started talking about how to make him lose his cool." Kurt shot her an unamused glare.

"But he's totally and completely straight! He's…I mean, he's Puck!" His voice grew shriller with each word.

"Puck's never been a hundred percent straight." Kurt fixed his glare at the blonde cheerleader falling in step next to him.

"How would you know? He got you pregnant!" He said snidely. Quinn smiled beatifically, looking every inch the angelic, innocent girl she never was.

"Let's just say he learned his pool cleaning skills from a personal trainer." Both Mercedes and Kurt blinked at this new information, a small grin and blush forming on the latter's cheeks.

"Ooh, what was his name?" Quinn laughed daintily, teeth glinting like sets of pearls in the light, but shook her head. Kurt pouted but soon stopped by his locker, waving at the two girls. Opening his locker, Kurt took out his books, closed the door, and turned to walk to class.

Things seemed to happen in slow motion then. Hot breath wafted in his ear, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, too much body warmth in his space turned into too much touching and then his body moved rapidly to the side. He felt the contrasting cold metal bite at his shoulder and ribs, but it was like he watching from outside his body because he noted this with a cool sense of indifference.

Suddenly, a rushing sound filled his ears and the throbbing in his shoulder brought him abruptly back to earth. A buzzing noise rang in his ears and he slowly opened his eyes, blurry figure blocking his view. The buzzing and ringing intensified until it suddenly dissipated, figure clearing into a recognizable state.

"Hummel? Kurt? Hey, you okay?" Kurt blinked at him, blue-green eyes dazed and glassy.

"Princess!" The newly-mohawked boy reached out and gripped Kurt's shoulders, shaking him gently. The countertenor hissed, starting in pain.

"I—what? What just happened?"

"You got whammed into the lockers is what happened," his companion said, eyes warm and soft.

Kurt blinked again. "Oh."

"Yeah," Puck raised an eyebrow, "Can you tell me who did it?"

Kurt shook his head. Puck narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth.

"You'll just beat him up and end up getting sent back to juvie. The entire glee club would kill me if that happened. It's not the same without your 'bad boy persona' apparently and plus I'd kind of miss you." Puck shut his mouth and smirked, eyebrows quirking bemusedly.

"Didn't know you felt that way about me, Princess," he drawled.

Kurt shut his eyes tightly. "Wow, word vomit," he moaned. "Ignore everything I just said and go away."

"Nah," he said, low and smooth, sidling up to lean against the lockers next to Kurt, draping a warm, broad arm over him. "I think I'll just stay here."

Kurt blushed, cheeks turning a rosy pink, but let himself lean against the furnace that was his teammate, and they sat in compatible silence for awhile for awhile.

"You know, I do actually have to go to class," Kurt said, breaking the quiet.

Puck huffed, eyes still closed. "No, you don't. I never do." Kurt turned to look at him.

"And how do you even pass the grade again?" Puck grinned, shark-like and predatory, eyes glittering.

"'Cause I'm a genius?" Kurt just raised an eyebrow. Puck stared back, unabashed, and Kurt shook his head.

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You're always so…calm and, like, collected. You never look upset or sad or even angry. How?"

Puck shrugged, grinning, and Kurt pouted.

"I'm going to change that, you know." Puck lifted an eyebrow and Kurt nodded.

"I am. I'm going to make you show emotion. Got it, Noah?" The boy with the Mohawk smirked and leaned in close, breath wafting over his face.

"Tell ya what, princess." Kurt's lips parted and his eyes closed at half-mast. Puck's voice lowered to a whisper, "Hit me with your best shot."

Kurt's eyes flew open when the space heater that was Noah Puckerman disappeared and narrowed his eyes at the retreating form. Oh, Noah wouldn't know what _hit _him.

* * *

The combative mood lasted him all day and didn't leave him even as the bullying got worse. In fact, Kurt just added anger to his fuel for combat and transferred it to Karofsky, instead of the friendly competitive nature of Noah's.

"What is your problem?" He yelled after a particularly hard shove that sent his teeth rattling and his shoulder throbbing again. But he paid his pain no heed as he sprinted after Karofsky, lips already forming into a vicious snarl. He brushed past Puck in his haste and his teammate watched the scene with hooded eyes, seeming to pause for a moment before making the decision to follow quietly behind, sending a glare to anyone who looked at him funny.

A flurry of words and rapid movement later, Kurt had cold lips pressed against his and broad hands framing his face and a slimy tongue trying to force its way passed Kurt's teeth. Kurt pushed him away, eyes huge, frantic, terrified, and saw his own hand trembling and mouth working soundlessly. Distantly, he saw Karofsky reach for him again and he backed up, legs shaking, hands pushing him back.

Suddenly, he felt cold tile seep through his clothes and saw that his legs had given out from under him.

"Princess, hey, princess, you okay?" Kurt squinted up at Puck's face, hands tightening into fists to keep from curling in on himself.

"Is—is he gone?" And Kurt hated how weak and hoarse his voice was, how timid and quiet.

Puck's gaze softened and he sat down and pulled Kurt into his arms, murmuring, "Yeah, yeah he is, princess." And Kurt, still trembling and so, so tired, curled into Puck's warmth, gripping the lapels of his shirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. Puck tucked Kurt's head to his neck, resting his chin on his hair, crooning a Hebrew lullaby.

Kurt let the rough, rocker-drawl smooth over him, the enchanting tune of the song calming him down slowly.

"Hey, princess?"

"Mmm?"

"Wanna tell me what happened?" And just like that, the countertenor's body tensed, only to relax again at Puck's soothing words and soft hand rubbing up and down his back. Kurt let out a breath.

"Karofsky kissed me."

"_What_?" Kurt felt rather than heard Puck's snarl and his tensing underneath him. Kurt laughed lightly, running a hand through his Mohawk to calm him down, feeling the tenseness ease out of him as he leaned into the touch.

"Look at that, some emotion." One side of Puck's mouth lifted slightly, eyes still dark and stormy.

"Not much, but I'll get it out of you yet."

"I'm sure you will, princess."

Kurt pouted, "Don't mock me. I will."

"Alright, Kurt. But, hey, you know now that I'm definitely gonna be walking you to class from now on. Karofsky won't mess with you while you're with me. I'll get the other Glee guys to help. We'll be like the Secret Service, ridin' your ass," he leered.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. "I'm not some girl you can just protect from every little thing, Noah."

"No, but you _are _smaller than Karofsky and almost all the other guys. And we scare him. You don't."

"Fine, but don't expect to sweep me off my feet, lover boy."

Puck smiled widely, toothy and mischievous. "Gotcha loud and clear, princess."

* * *

"'Cedes, I don't want to use his dad as a way to get him to show emotion. I don't want to hurt him."

"Listen, white boy, if you want him to go from flat to furious in no time at all, use it. I don't know of anything else that'll get a rise outta him."

Kurt bit his lip, chewing thoughtfully. "I guess. Well I've got to go do homework. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, boo!"

"Bye, baby."

* * *

And now we're back to the beginning, with Puck's mouth warm on his, lips soft and pliable and _parted_—oh. Now, _this_ was what a kiss should be like, tongue velvet and hot, tangling with his own, hands possessive on his ass, his own hands reaching to tease at the nape of Puck's neck, earning a low-throated groan vibrating against his lips, until Puck's mouth was gone and they were breathing each other's air harshly. Kurt stared at Puck's—Noah's—wild, gorgeous eyes, flushed cheeks and wet, swollen lips, beautiful and obscene and _all his doing._

"What a way to announce us to the world, princess." And Kurt noticed for the first time how quiet the hallway was and saw people staring openmouthed out of the corner of his eyes. He blushed furiously, cheeks a burning rogue red, but looked at Puck from under his eyelashes, smirking at how his eyes darkened at the movement.

"Not so unruffled now, Noah, are you?" And Puck threw his head back and laughed, long and clear and loud. The sound seemed to spurn everyone to action and talking rose quickly and noisily, looks shot their way every few seconds.

"Princess," Puck murmured, pushing Kurt against the lockers.

"Hmm?" he replied breathlessly, eyes flickering from lips to those laughing eyes.

"Don't you know by now I've never _been_ calm when it comes to you?"

And Kurt just gaped and gaped until Puck rolled his eyes and pulled him in for another kiss.

* * *

HIIII. So this turned WAYYY longer than I expected. And, yeah. It gets a little rushed I feel? Idk. I wrote it on the plane ride to and from Puerto Rico. You know this story is 16 pages handwritten? YEAH.

So...review. Because Blaine says so. Even though he's not in this story.


End file.
